The Mix Tape
by Beth Pryor
Summary: Logan spends the day going through boxes of junk from his past and in the process comes to terms with some issues in the present. M/L S1 set somewhere between Female Trouble and Haven.
1. Livin' La Vida Logan

**The Mix Tape**

**Author:** Beth Pryor

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Logan spends the day sorting through boxes of junk from his past and in the meantime comes to terms with his present and possibly his future. S1, M/L probably set somewhere between Female Trouble and Haven. Mostly canon, just moving things along a little.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, including Dark Angel, the concept or characters, nor do I own rights to any of the songs mentioned or quoted. Lyrics listed are from Coldplay's "Viva La Vida" and "Fix You." Additionally, this is my first foray into the DA universe after just finishing watching season 1 in its entirety. I hope you enjoy and find that the characters aren't too heavily influenced by me, but well, I wrote it, so they probably are more me. I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to review with your constructive criticism or PM with any questions!

* * *

**The Mix Tape**

Chapter 1 – _Livin' La Vida Logan_

As far as Logan was concerned, this was all Bling's fault. The therapist was the one who had pushed Logan to clean out his storage unit in the building's basement. Bling had been down there several times during the "remodel" while Logan was still at the rehab center. Logan knew the cage was full of boxes of crap, but he had just never had the time to go through that stuff. Besides, who ever really went through all their stuff from childhood, boarding school, or college? Everyone either kept it all or threw it all out. Logan guessed he should have thrown it out, but he hadn't yet. And Bling insisted that they needed to make more room down there so they could either move things down from the apartment or just to have a place for storing other extraneous stuff not requiring the security of the penthouse. Logan agreed. It was more important to keep the floor clear now, for maneuvering and all, especially as the computer room continued to expand like some sort of amoeba, extending outside the confines of the small office into other parts of the house. So on this Thursday morning, the informant net had been virtually dead for two days, and following his workout, Logan was actually twiddling his thumbs. Bling found this to be the perfect opportunity to start hauling boxes into the penthouse.

Logan was at least relieved to find as he surveyed the cargo that Bling had omitted anything marked "Val" or "Logan and Val" or "Wedding." He knew he had stacked the boxes in reverse chronological order, so the wedding stuff was probably the most easily accessible, but the newest boxes Bling brought up were his labeled files from stories he'd investigated when he was with the Pacific Free Press. For that obvious omission, he was almost grateful enough to go along with what the big man was asking him to do without grumbling. He opened the lid of the first box and tried to sift through notes. As a post-Pulse journalist, most of his notes were handwritten and he had employed some sort of organizational system, but he had been wary of throwing anything away since he couldn't know he'd have reliable computer access and file back-up. Logan realized that this first box alone could be an all-day job, and he just didn't have the stamina for trudging through the summation of his life's work, especially when it reminded him that he was no longer able to do his own legwork on his current assignments.

Instead, he turned to another box labeled "Yale, 08-09," his senior year. He had been on staff at the Yale Daily News and a serious student, but there had plenty of time for fun and extracurriculars. One of his favorites had been his intramural softball team. He pulled out a photo of the group following the championship tournament. Even though he played a lot of basketball back in the day, he had been athletic in general, and the guys on the softball team had been among his closest friends. Logan's position had been center field, and he was actually good at it. He smiled, remembering a diving catch he'd made in short center during the championship game. Those had been fun times.

By virtue of pedigree and legacy, he was also a member of one of the fabled secret societies on campus. Members of the "brotherhood" had become Senators, Supreme Court Justices, Ambassadors, Cabinet Members and several had even been President of the United States over the generations. Logan let out an ironic little laugh as he held his year's roster scroll in his hand and looked over the names. He recognized several of them as up and coming businessmen and politicians, mostly in the east. At least two were family names speculated to be involved in more than one of his Eyes Only investigations. He turned the scroll over in his hands, inadvertently rolling it up again. He was probably supposed to have burned this or something by now, but he couldn't imagine that anyone would ever believe that he'd even been a part. If his brothers could see him now…

He pushed the scroll out of the way along with his mortarboard and a Yale mug. Underneath was a stack of photos and CD's. Suddenly smiling genuinely, he pulled them out of the box. He sat the photos on the desk; he'd look at them later and turned instead to the CD's. His aquamarine eyes lit up as he realized the stack held hard copies of almost all of his old music preserved in data format. He popped the disc in the Mac's drive and held his breath. Certainly it would work, wouldn't it? An error box appeared on his screen, and Logan scratched his head for a second before attempting to download the appropriate application to make the music play. He held his breath and pushed play once again. His speakers roared to life, and his four years of college played out in song.

Bling, who had been bringing up more boxes from the basement in an attempt to give Logan a little private time with his past, heard the racket from the elevator.

"You'd better turn that down. Mrs. Moreno's liable to call the cops for a noise violation," he yelled as he walked into the main part of the penthouse.

"What? I can't hear you. My music is too loud," grinned Logan, as he reached forward and turned down the volume.

"What was that exactly?" Bling inquired as this was quite unlike anything he'd ever heard playing in Logan's presence, even when Max was around.

"T.I. featuring Rhianna." Bling's eyebrows shot up hearing this from the guy who preferred Beethoven to Beyonce these days. "I liked the video," Logan explained, shrugging and blushing a little. "Besides, it was really popular."

Bling grinned. "I'm not here to judge. Frankly, I have a feeling I'm gonna like what's on that better than the muzak you pump in here all the time. Just because you have an elevator doesn't mean you have to play its music, you know." Logan shook his head but Bling motioned to the computer. "What else do you have on there?"

Logan held up the CD's to show Bling that they were largely unlabeled. "I'm not sure, really. I don't even remember making these. I thought that when my iPod and laptop went under in the Pulse that I'd lost all of this. I can't believe it. I haven't heard most of this stuff in years!"

"And you wouldn't have even known about it if someone hadn't made you go through this stuff. Do you think you could actually get rid of a few of them while you listen to your tunes?" Bling dropped off two more boxes, bringing the total in the room to ten.

"Yeah, um, think you can hold off on the retrieval mission right now until I have a chance to do something with some of these first?" Logan let his eyes sweep over the room. He barely had a path to the bedroom. Bling followed his client's line of sight and nodded in agreement.

"Sure. I think you have plenty to wade through here. You want me to head to the market while you work on this stuff or do you want me to stay and help?"

Logan scratched his head again as the song changed to a Michael Bublé ballad. His face reddened a little. "Yeah, the market is a good idea. The list is on the counter, and I'll dig into these." Bling barely held back his grin as he grabbed the slip of paper and headed to the door.

Alone and now energized to get some work done, he moved back toward the boxes and began sorting them in earnest this time. He was able to consolidate four boxes down to two, using the others for trash and give-aways. He organized his belongings into piles and began repackaging the "keep in storage" stacks. All the while, he listened to each successive track, finding that with each one, specific memories of people, places and activities flooded back over him.

"_I used to rule the world. Seas would rise when I gave the world. Now in the morning I sleep alone, sweep the streets I used to own_." Logan felt his breath catch as Chris Martin's words knifed through his contentment. He exhaled slowly. "Tell me about it," he sighed to no one. Suddenly this wasn't as much fun.

He slalomed through the boxes back to his bedroom as the song continued to play. The full-length mirror caught him in all his reminiscent glory, beer hat, crew sweater, Mardi Gras beads, and blue and white rugby scarf. He looked down at his feet. Why in the hell was he wearing his softball cleats and stirrups? When had he even put those on? He streaked back down the hall, running into two boxes labeled "Andover" and one labeled "Stuff Won from Bennett." From the computer, Timbaland was introducing Madonna and Justin Timberlake as he grabbed the closest empty box and started throwing stuff in it. He didn't even hear her come in, but of course, he hardly ever did anyway.

When he pivoted to put the filled box with the others in the trash pile, she was sitting on the counter, legs swinging, watching him with a completely amused smirk. He wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, well, less than four minutes, but long enough. He gave the box a push and reached over to turn off the music as the song changed again. Suddenly, remembering how he was dressed, his entire face reddened. Pulling the novelty hat off of his head and unwinding the scarf and beads, he searched frantically for another box. She hopped off the counter and walked over toward him. She plopped on the floor beside him and flipped through the contents of one of the loosely packed boxes.

"What's all this?"

Logan was still searching for someplace to deposit the memorabilia other than his lap. He tugged the sweater over his head; it was too tight across the chest and shoulders now. All that remained of his getup were the spikes and stirrups. He wasn't about to touch those with her around, though. She was watching him so intently, as she always did.

"Just going through some stuff from the storage unit. Early lunch today?" He was trying to be nonchalant, but she'd just caught him in the middle of a bit of a breakdown, wearing a collection of artifacts from his college days, no less.

"It's almost 2:30, Logan. You must have been hard at work for a while." She surveyed the stacks of boxes and piles of his belongings spaced neatly around the room.

"Bling said I needed to get rid of some stuff. Most of that is just old papers. We'll have to shred or burn them, up at the cabin, maybe." He pointed to another pile. "You and Cindy and Kendra might be able to use some of that stuff, or you might know someone who can."

She grinned. "I'm sure we can find good homes for all of it. Thanks."

"Bling's not back yet, I guess. He went to the market a little bit earlier, but I can try to find you something to eat." He was working really hard to act naturally, but he was struggling.

"It's okay. I already ate with Sketchy, but I gotta blaze. Normal is going to be all over my ass if I'm gone much longer. I only had one delivery over here." If she realized that she had caught him at a bad time, she didn't let on, nor did she push it.

"Come for dinner, then. I promise I'll have all this cleaned up by the time you get back."

Max grinned as she held up her hand and he pulled her up from the floor, "Don't have to ask me twice. I'm on call until 7:30, not a minute sooner."

"Eight o'clock, then?" he asked.

Max shrugged, "Sure, why not. Need me to bring anything?" There were some nice items in his refuse pile. Even if she gave most of it away, she'd still make a few bucks off the rest of it. The least she could do was offer to help with dinner.

"Well, thanks for asking, but I think I'm all set." _Or I will be when Bling gets back_, he thought.

She continued to pick through the pile, indicating items of particular interest to her.

"I'll bring a bigger bag for this stuff. Cindy has been looking for a new lamp, and I know Kendra's teakettle is rusted through."

"Or I could drop it off tomorrow or whenever. It would be kinda bulky on the bike," he offered.

Max smiled again. He was always thinking of her, how he could make her life easier, better. "If it's not too much trouble," she started.

"It's not," he quickly answered, smiling to cover the blush he felt creeping again. Her eyes met his and she flushed slightly, too.

"I gotta go," she reiterated, breaking eye contact and slinking toward the door. "Later."

"Yeah," Logan felt his grin fade as he surveyed the room. He and Bling had some serious work ahead of them. He dumped the rest of the Yale stuff in a box and removed the stirrups and athletic shoes, tossing them in a pile of give-aways.


	2. All These Things We Haven't Done

A/N: Thanks so much for your lovely reviews. Any writer out there will tell you they are so important to the process and to my confidence. Here's the next little part, which I do believe will be followed by one final installment, but no promises on that yet. If you check out my other work on here, you'll notice that I do have another "songfic" that I stated would probably be my only, but this one just felt so right, and it's really about how closely songs are tied with memories. There are a handful of songs that instantly transport me back to high school and college, and I'm sure most readers have similar experiences, too. I'm guessing that's something that Max would have had limited experience with, but obviously understands now. Plus, there are just some songs that seem like they were written just for you, just for the time you're listening to them. While Shakespeare they are not, they do seem to capture the human condition and remain relevant, at least for a while. Whew, that was long. Now on with the story…

* * *

Chapter 2 – _All These Things We Haven't Done_

By six-thirty, Logan and Bling had at least stored all three categories of boxes in the exercise room. Bling had done most of the heavy lifting while letting Logan slip into the kitchen to work on dinner. The market trip brought an extra special treat that day, certified mercury-free salmon from up the coast, and he was hell-bent on perfecting his sesame teriyaki recipe. Fortunately, once the initial prep was completed, the rest of the cooking time was marinade and then baking time. At quarter to seven, Logan rushed off to shower and change as Bling finished the clean up.

Once he arrived back in the kitchen, requisite blue-green sweater in place, Logan placed the salmon in the oven and checked on the steaming rice. He also lightly sautéed some chopped vegetables and made sure he had dessert ready, chocolate fondue to go with the strawberries Mrs. Moreno had brought over after he had helped her find a veterinarian for her cat the week before. Max would definitely love it, although he wished he had marshmallows, too. As he was finishing the preparations and watched Bling complete the table setting, he glanced over to the computer where more of his music was playing. He turned to Bling, questioning with his eyes.

"I didn't think you'd mind if I started it back up. It was nice before."

Logan swallowed hard. It had been nice, yet painful, as he heard songs he'd often associated with some of his unsanctioned Yale extracurriculars involving various co-eds, again reminding him that the Pulse wasn't the only change around here, reminding him of the biggest reason he and Max "weren't like that." Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, I guess it was," he managed. He eventually cleared his head enough to start moving again. He was headed to the dining room when the doorbell rang. Bling looked up to get it, but Logan waved him off and crossed to the lobby door.

He opened it to find her standing there. As always, a warm stirring rumbled inside of him just at the sight of her. She (or Cindy and Kendra) had chosen slim black pants and a burgundy turtleneck for the occasion. Her hair was down, the way she normally wore it, just a little shinier than usual. Only the lightest touch of makeup could be seen over her eyes, on her glossy lips. She was an enhanced version of herself, as though she ever needed any enhancement for him. Realizing he'd been staring for a few moments, he moved aside and invited her in.

She swept into the room, her energy level high and mood ebullient. He was so glad. In a selfish way, he was relying on her upbeat mood to stabilize his. The lability of his own emotions throughout the day, another of his weaknesses, embarrassed him. In some ways, he envied Jonas, Bennett, and his father. He couldn't imagine any of them falling apart over song lyrics and softball cleats. Whatever. He had other things on his mind right now, at least he should. Namely her hips, swaying in front of him on their way to the dining room. Yes, he'd think about that now.

"Hey, Bling," she greeted as she saw the other man. "What's the dealio?"

"Hey, Max. Not much. Just on my way out," he confirmed as he gathered his things from a chair.

"Sure you can't stay?" she asked, almost meaning it.

"Nah. There's a barstool in Sector 3 with my name on it, but thanks anyway."

Logan sat back watching this exchange with amusement, but he had no idea the next part was coming. He probably should have.

"Well, have a good time," Max grinned as she turned to Logan, giggled and then turned back to Bling. "But I have to tell you, I learned something today."

The big man stopped mid-stride to the door. "What's that?"

"I learned why Logan is so cranky and why there isn't even time for dinner some nights."

The heat flooded Logan's face and neck. His breath came in rapid spurts as his heart rate quickened. Was she going to tell him about his roll down memory lane? What the hell?

"Oh, this I'd like to know," Bling encouraged, ignoring his client who looked like he was about to faint. This had to be good.

"It's because _we've only got four minutes to save the world_," sang Max dancing around behind Logan, giving his shoulder a playful squeeze.

He twisted around to try to look at her and then to Bling. For the umpteenth time today, the big man was struggling to hold in his laughter. Finally, it overtook him and he broke down. They both stood there, laughing and looking at Logan, who, although still semi-mortified, was looking slightly better than he had moments before. Eventually he smiled, too, and waved a hand at them.

"Go ahead and laugh, but I know Bling was having fun with the music, too."

Max's dark eyes twinkled. "Oh, but not nearly as much as you, Joe College."

He shot her a look, and she quietly retreated from the subject. Bling took this as his cue to exit.

"You kids have a good time," he called back as he got onto the elevator.

Back in the dining room, Max moved around in front of Logan, pulling up a dining chair in front of him so they were facing.

"Sorry about that. I just couldn't resist," she apologized.

"I was just afraid you'd tell him the rest."

"What? Your little pity party?" She shrugged. "You have a lot of those. I don't think Bling needs to know about all of them."

"Yeah, well, thanks." He unlocked his brakes and moved toward the kitchen, changing his scenery and the subject. "You hungry?"

She brightened. "Always."

He handed her two serving bowls as he placed the salmon plate on his lap after testing the bottom temperature. He placed the items on the table and retreated for the wine. She selected two glasses and found the corkscrew, which she turned over to him for the opening. She did have a tendency to break the cork. He poured the white liquid and handed it to her.

"What kind is this?" she asked, knowing there would be a lesson in this for her.

"It's Riesling, originally from Germany, but I think this one is from Australia, post-Pulse but actually still quite good. It's especially well-paired with spicy cuisine, like Mexican or Asian."

She took a drink. "It's different from what we usually have, but I like it."

"I'm glad you approve." He motioned to the table. "Have a seat." She took her place across from him and waited eagerly as he served her. She breathed in the pungent aromas and smiled. He settled back and stared across at her. He was getting ready to take a bite when she looked up at him.

"The music stopped."

He hadn't noticed. Unlocking his breaks and pushing back, he was prepared to start it again. She stood and crossed the room before he'd moved more than a couple of inches. "I got it."

In a second, she was back in the chair and Chris Martin was singing again. Damned Englishman seemed destined to ruin his day. Logan sat silently, head bowed slightly, eyes closed as the words took over the room.

_When you try your best but you don't succeed. _

_When you get what you want but not what you need. _

_When you feel so tired but you can't sleep. _

_Stuck in reverse. _

_And the tears come streaming down your face. _

_When you lose something you can't replace. _

_When you love someone but it goes to waste. _

_Could it be worse? _

_Lights will guide you home. _

_And ignite your bones. _

_And I will try to fix you._

During the musical refrain, he opened them and looked down. Her hand was on his. He looked up into her eyes, now misty, betraying her with the wetness on her cheeks. Her hand tightened around his as the words started again. She bored her chocolaty eyes into his ocean-colored ones.

_And high up above or down below_

_When you're too in love to let it go_

_But if you never try, you'll never know_

_Just what you're worth_

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

"Logan?" she whispered as the words began to repeat. He blinked and broke eye contact. After a second, he reached down and unlocked his brakes, moving away from the table and into the living room. She followed behind at a reasonable distance, staying close but still allowing him space. He stopped in front of the window.

_A shattered spinal cord, a dysfunctional family and a mountain of insecurities from both, that's what I have to offer her_, he thought as he stared out at the nightscape. _Every part of me is so wrecked; she'd spend all her time trying to nurse my broken ego back to health. That's no life for her to live. She's so young and vibrant and beautiful. She can't fix me, and there's no reason why she should try._

Quietly, like a cat, she moved behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. She knew what he had to be thinking.

_I'm made of selected pieces of DNA assembled in a Petri dish and shoved into a woman paid to carry me in her womb. Then, I was raised in a military encampment with others like me to be a genetically enhanced army of assassins. Now it's obvious where all that gene splicing went wrong, the heat cycles, the seizures. On top of that, I'll be forever trying to reunite my "family" while on the run from Lydecker and Manticore_. She looked at their reflections in the window. _Why in the world would this amazingly handsome, rich, well-bred, well-educated and respected journalist and champion of justice want to put up with that? There may be someone who can repair the genetic defects, but that would mean Manticore and torture and re-indoctrination. He can't fix me, and becoming further involved with me can only cause him pain. That's the last thing I want for him, more pain._

He reached up and placed his hand on hers. "You can't, you know," he whispered into the night.

"Can't what, Logan?" she asked, his words pulling her back.

"You can't make me whole again. We know that by now." He cringed, thinking back to the whole Dr. Vertes mess.

"Whole what?" she asked, slightly confused as to where this was coming from.

"A man, on two feet, standing in front of you, whole."

Her eyes widened. Was this what he thought the song meant? Not her, him? She moved around and knelt to face him at his eye level. "Is that what you think I'm worried about, what I want?"

"Well, yeah. I can't think of anything much bigger than that."

She reached her hand toward him and traced the angle of his jaw. "That's the last thing on my mind. I'm pretty sure I've told you this about a billion times, the chair doesn't matter to me. It never has and it never will. I want you, Logan. I love you." She sighed as he took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips lightly.

"If that was the last thing on your mind, then can you explain the faraway look in your eye just then?" he asked, still holding onto her hand but ignoring the revelation of her soul a moment before.

"Sure, I was thinking how you'd be crazy to spend another minute with my faulty genetics and 'family troubles,' forever on the run from government agents in black helicopters, not even knowing my birthday, that kind of thing," she explained.

Logan grinned. "So what you're saying is…"

"That we're both pretty pathetic, and the way I see it, we should get together immediately to spare anyone else who may look favorably on either of us the pain and anguish of being with someone as pitiful as you or me," Max finished for him.

"I can absolutely see your point, Max, and I like it."

"You do?" she blurted, frankly surprised that he was agreeing with her. He was usually so much more rational than this.

"I do, oh, and I love you. In case that matters." He pulled her up and onto his lap. She snuggled back into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck softly in the process.

"It's like they wrote that song just for us, isn't it?" she asked, taking in the lights, safe in his arms, their fingers intertwined.

"Maybe they did. Maybe they knew that we'd need it right now, right like this."

"Do you think they had any idea about what's gonna happen next?" she asked, turning to look at him again. He scrunched his face into a questioning look. She leaned in and kissed him. His open mouth met hers. The kiss lasted a long time and was followed by several more before she put some space between them. She stood and looked toward the bedroom door. He nodded and she walked slowly toward it, with him close by her side.

"I have a feeling they did," he grinned as they moved toward the room. "Remind me to thank Bling tomorrow."

"For what?" she asked as she sat on the bed and waited for him to transfer over with her.

"Nothing." He smiled as he slid over beside her and watched as she shimmied out of her top and turned to begin removing his, their mouths and hands finding every inch of the other's body. _Well_, he though, _it's more like everything_.


	3. Moving Forward Takes All My Breath

A/N: So I lied. This isn't quite the end. I thank you all for forgiving my fluff in the last chapter and probably in the next two. I'm thinking about working on something with a plot in the near future and needed this stuff out of the way first. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.

* * *

_Chapter 3 – Moving Forward Takes All My Breath_

There was coffee. He hoped he wasn't just dreaming it and cautiously took a deep breath. The intoxicating aroma persisted. He opened his eyes and trained them on the clock. 6:30 am. Not even Bling would be around this early. Then he saw it, a red turtleneck over the armchair, a puddle of leggings on the floor. She was still here. She had stayed. Not in the armchair, not on the couch, not in the guest room. In his bed. With him. He smiled as he recalled watching her remove each article of clothing now decorating his room. What came after the stripping hadn't been too bad either. He blushed now, thinking back on how he probably should have taken Bling up on his offer to have "the talk." Still, he felt like he'd held his own this new, first time. Max had seemed happy, satisfied. And that was good enough for him. For now. Hell, he'd always been a fan of third base. He grinned guiltily and flushed a bit more, reminiscing on that fact. _Well of course, dumbass,_ he thought, _it was always about you. How could you not have liked it?_ But Last night had been about her, and he knew they'd figure out the rest in time. Together.

He decided to get up and spend some time with her before she had to head off to work. If he got tired later, he could take a nap. The world wouldn't completely fall apart without him attempting to save it for a few hours. He was beginning to see this. Talk about another blow to the ego! He stopped long enough to brush his teeth before he joined Max in the kitchen. He started down the hall, knowing full well she had heard him moving around and would be waiting when he got there. She was, of course. She acted as if she hadn't heard him, but the gorgeous woman in his kitchen put the Bionic Woman to shame in the supersonic hearing department. Plus, he wasn't exactly cat-like in _his_ movements. She kept her back to him, intently studying the contents of the refrigerator as he came up behind her. She waited for him to stop just barely touching her leg, positioned so that if she moved back, she'd find herself situated across his lap. Sensing this, she dropped back, and he took her in his arms yet again. His hand slid over her smooth, silky leg as she leaned in for a kiss and a snuggle, lightly nipping his neck as a part of the move.

"Good morning to you, too," he breathed into her hair. She smelled faintly like the city, markets full of spices, paper packaging, people in motion, air heavy with moisture just before the rain, and speed. It wasn't unpleasant, nothing about her could be. The scent refreshed him. It made him feel more alive, as though he had been everywhere she had been, on the Ninja with the wind whipping through her hair. She reached up and tangled her fingers in his scarecrow-y mop.

"I made coffee," she whispered. "Thought maybe you could handle the rest?" she asked in hopeful expectance. Even though she hated the thought of ruining the mood, she was starving. They hadn't made it back to the table following the previous evening's excitement. Although she had run out to put things away after Logan fell asleep, she had wanted to get back to him so badly, to press her body against his strong, warm one that she didn't even take time out for a snack.

He realized this was the case and requested eggs, milk, mushrooms, ham, a small piece of cheddar cheese, an onion and a green pepper. Max retrieved them and, sighing, stood to place them on the counter. Logan let her break the eggs in the bowl and wipe off the mushrooms while he quickly chopped the other vegetables. He placed the ingredients in the pan to warm for a moment while Max whisked the eggs with a little bit of milk. She showed him the contents of the bowl and he nodded. She poured the egg mixture onto the cooking veggies and ham. Since he was letting her do the lion's share of the cooking, the outcome would likely resemble scrambled eggs rather than an omelet, but it would be her creation, and it would be tasty. He seasoned the bubbling concoction with salt and pepper, letting her turn the eggs with a spatula she had pulled from the drawer beside her. When the dish was almost completed, he sprinkled the cheese on top. Max handed him two plates as she stuck slices of bread in the toaster. He served them both and placed their dishes at the bar. Max poured herself another mug of coffee and fixed his, setting it in front of his place. She grabbed the toast and a small glass jar of jam, turning back just in time to see him moving from the chair to the high stool. She bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her desire and walked up behind him. She slid the toast and jam onto the table, one arm on each side of him, leaning in again to kiss his neck.

"Max," he moaned, not even trying to keep himself in check, "This is how we missed dinner. You'll starve to death if you don't eat something other than my neck."

She sat her hand on top of his as she circled the table to take her seat. "Sorry, you're just so…" She stopped for a second and then shook her head once. Her throat emitted a little purring sound.

"Yeah, well, we're going to have to talk about something else before we both waste away," he decided, feeling that thing that happened in his stomach again. If she looked at him like that one more time, he was going to fall off the stool.

"Right," she said, grinning. She knew the effect she was having on him because she ventured it was the same one he was having on her. "So I listened to more of your music this morning, and I have a few questions."

Logan rolled his eyes playfully before plopping his elbows on the counter and leaning forward to place his chin on his fist, giving the appearance that she had his undivided attention.

She laughed but continued. "I changed the disc. The one I found had a lot of girly songs. What's that all about? You listenin' to that stuff?"

He blushed a little but managed a laugh. "Was it a data CD or just .wav files?"

"Oh," she paused, thinking, "There were only about 20 songs on it, so it must have been music files, not data formatted. The playlist was different, too. There were song titles instead of filenames."

Logan nodded. "That was a mix tape." She gave him a confused shrug. "It refers to the days of audio tapes, when a person chose a mix of songs and recorded them on one cassette. When things changed over to CD's, the terminology never really evolved."

"Okay," she nodded. "But why the girly songs?"

Logan grinned again. "Well, you see, Max, a mix tape is a very special and personalized gift that you would make for someone to tell them you were interested. More than likely, I made that mix for someone of the female persuasion back in the day."

"And you don't even remember who?" Max feigned shock as Logan reddened.

"It's not like it's the only one I ever made," he protested. "I was, at one point, thought of as quite a catch, and occasionally I attempted to try to convince a girl not to release me."

"Whatever," scoffed Max, knowing that this sudden feeling of jealousy thinking about Logan with some unnamed girl more than ten years ago was asinine. "I still have some questions about the songs."

"Shoot," Logan offered.

"Okay. The first one is why is it romantic to chase cars? I can only imagine that would be appealing if you had some canine DNA in you, which could happen, but is unlikely in the general population."

He couldn't help but smile at her. "I don't think they're talking about actually chasing cars, besides, the important line is the one about lying together and forgetting the world. That's pretty romantic, right?"

Her face darkened a little. "Yeah, I guess so." But the shadow only lasted until the next blink of her eyes. Remembering other tracks, she continued. "So I'm really digging these chicks, Rihanna and Beyoncé. They're all about ass kicking girl power. Beyoncé talks about getting rid of cheating guys who don't understand how amazing you are and then trading places with men but doing a better job of things because she understands what a girl feels, how she, I don't know, ticks." She was practically beaming now. "Oh, yeah, and Rihanna's one song is perfect for Seattle. It's about an umbrella!"

Logan laughed out loud. "Again, not literally about an umbrella, but I'm not surprised you enjoyed them. They were both hugely popular with girls your age back then."

"Girls my age," she mumbled under her breath as she rolled her eyes at him. "As though I'm some googley-eyed teenager," she pouted for about a second. "But there's more." Logan nodded, encouraging her. "What's a G5? Some sort of plane?" He affirmed again, chuckling to himself as he waited for the next one. "Okay, one final one, I think: What is a hootie and what could he possibly hope to gain from hanging out with blowfish?"

He shook his head and pointed to her plate. "That's another topic for another day. Eat your eggs before they're cold and gross," he scolded half-heartedly, but it didn't work with the smile stuck on his face.

She took a bite but looked at him skeptically. "So what's the point of all that tape mixing?" she asked, still chewing.

"Well," Logan scratched his head, "It's about creating a romantic mood and trying to find a song that represents the two of you and your relationship."

She shook her head, brow furrowing, "That doesn't make sense with this one. There are songs on there about your man cheating on you. That's not so romantic."

"True," he conceded. "The other option is to pick a bunch of songs you know she'll like, especially if they're girly, and put those on it. It shows that you're progressive and understand her feelings," he explained.

Max snorted. "Progressive enough to get laid, you mean."

"Well, that was never an unwelcome consequence. All part of the process we men are willing to endure," he grinned mischievously.

Her eyes trailed over to the clock on the oven. "It's getting late. Gotta jet. Normal will be all up in my face and OC is gonna freak because I didn't call her last night."

"Did you shower already?" She looked quite cleaner than he.

She nodded. "In the guest bathroom. Didn't want to wake you up."

"Your clothes are in the bedroom," he pointed out. This hadn't been the first night she'd slept over; she used the guest room a lot. There had been plenty of times following missions when it had been too late for her to go home and even a handful in which she'd been dirty or wet or just plain in want of a hot shower. At first, he always had to give her a pair of sweats and a tee to wear while her clothes were being laundered. Over the months, she'd just decided to leave some of her own stuff in "her" room. But last night and even following her shower until now, she'd been padding around in his shirt. She loved his scent being so close to her and he loved her legs and the way his shirt skimmed the curve of her bottom.

"Thanks. I'd better change." She stood up to walk through the kitchen. He grabbed her hand as she passed behind him.

"Can't you phone one in?" He never wanted her to leave.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I don't want to go, Logan, but I'll lose my job. You've seen Normal in action. It's just easier if I go and work my shift. I've been sick a lot lately, anyway. He's not going to take any more doctors' notes for a while, no matter how sickly Sam Carr makes me sound in them."

He wanted to scream that she didn't need that job, that life. She could stay with him forever. Or longer. But he knew that thought made him so unbelievably selfish. She did need the job, her friends, her apartment, even Crash. She needed to feel normal, like a regular girl trying to make it in the world. She had to prove that she could do it without being a superhero. Having him as her "sugar daddy" (he could almost hear Original Cindy voice speaking the words) wouldn't be an option he could ever propose. If that day ever did come, it would be at Max's request. And Logan wasn't holding his breath. Not just yet.

She pushed herself up from his shoulders and slid into the guest room. Less than five minutes later, she was back, dressed and ready to go.

"Let me drop you off. You can throw the bike in the back." He was back in the chair, having thrown the dishes in the sink and collected the leftovers and fixings beside the refrigerator. "It looks like it's already starting to rain."

She pulled her hair back in the Jam Pony cap, slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped over to kiss him. "'S okay, Logan. I got an umbrella," she winked as she backed away from him and headed toward the door.

He licked his now cherry-flavored lips as he watched her disappear down the hall. After a long moment sitting, unmoving in his kitchen, he suddenly snapped back into awareness. He finished cleaning up from breakfast and headed down the hall to do the rest of the bathroom stuff. He'd shower after Bling got there and they completed his reps. He was almost looking forward to the big man showing up and putting him through his paces today. They had a lot to talk about, and none of it involved Eyes Only.


	4. Out Of The Doubt That Fills My Mind

A/N: So this thing is morphing out of my control. This was supposed to be the end, but it just got really long. I'm not going to predict the end chapter anymore. That being said, thanks reading and reviewing. This chapter is a little more scientific/technical. PM or email me for sources if you need them.

* * *

_Chapter 4 – Out Of The Doubt That Fills My Mind_

Logan was so busy trying to make everything look as though nothing had happened the night before that he forgot to protest the workout when Bling arrived. Since the whole Manticore blood, stem cells, antibodies, rejection, and experimental immunosuppressant treatment fiasco, Bling hadn't pushed the exercises. The therapist had watched Logan go through the realization and acceptance of his injury and disability all over again. It was easy to see and understand that his patient's psyche was extremely fragile right now, and even though he wasn't sure it was the best way to deal with it, Bling had cut Logan some slack. The past few weeks of walking had been great for Logan's lower body strength and flexibility. A modest period of scaled back exercises wouldn't hurt him physically, but pushing him unnecessarily could set him back even further in the grand scheme. It wasn't that Bling believed that Logan would never walk again. On the contrary, he firmly believed in the scientific research that was finally back in full force after years of disruption following the Pulse. Knowing there were people like Max and institutions like Manticore in operation made him positive that in the very near future a person who suffered an injury such as Logan's would immediately receive neuron-saving treatments. Logan's case was obviously complicated by the time that had elapsed since his initial injury, and Bling understood that other cells, ones that were unable to conduct electrical impulses from nerve action potentials, had grown in place of Logan's neurons by now. It was this "scar tissue," these glial cells that kept Logan from being a candidate for any of the treatments available, even the ones in early trials. Bling didn't know how to solve this problem; he left stuff like that up to the scientists and doctors. His expertise was people, the bruised and broken people he helped ease back into the world. He realized that as these treatments panned out, they would significantly cut down on his caseload and livelihood, but, God, if anything could spare those potential patients the agony he was watching Logan Cale trudge through, he'd happily take a job at Jam Pony to make ends meet.

So he had been taking it easy on Logan lately. He'd decided to give the younger man a little longer to come to terms with his paralysis again before they got right back into the swing of things. However, as he let himself in the penthouse apartment on the morning after he'd left Logan alone with the exotic Max – not an uncommon happening – he walked in to find his patient in shorts and a t-shirt moving boxes from the exercise room so they had space to work. This was certainly a new finding. Bling chuckled softly and shook his head. _That little shit,_ he grinned to no one in particular. _He got some action last night._ It was about damn time.

He knocked on the doorjamb as he walked in. "You're up and at 'em awfully early this morning, aren't you?"

Logan turned to acknowledge the other man. "Hey, Bling," he started, as a blush crept over his ears. "Thought we should probably get back to work for real, you know. Reps, ROM's, all that crap I hate." Logan scratched the back of his head and stifled a yawn with his other hand. "I mean, I know you've been taking it easy on me in my 'fragile state' and all, but if this is my life, then I'd just as well get on with living it." He paused and looked at his therapist. "If that's okay with you."

Bling felt his grin extend as he advanced to the weight bench and took a seat. "What time did she drag your skinny ass out of bed this morning?" he asked coyly.

Logan's entire face flooded with heat and color. "Is it that, I mean, how did you…" he sputtered.

Bling couldn't hold in his laughter at this. He was so pleased with Logan and genuinely happy for him and Max. He knew it was sentimental and a little unmanly, but he had been hoping and even plotting for some time that these two would eventually be able to set their issues aside at least long enough to see how much they needed to be together.

Logan was still attempting to explain. "I mean, we just …"

"No! Stop!" Bling threw up his hand. "You don't need to tell me anything, unless you have questions about something. But in general, I don't need to know the details. Something happened; that much is obvious. The rest I'm happy to leave to the imagination."

Logan nodded, but the flush wasn't clearing from his face. "Actually," he started slowly, "I do have a couple of things I did want to talk to you about." Bling nodded. "I guess you get this a lot, but I should have probably listened to you before when you told me I'd need to know some things about, well, you know."

Bling laughed again. "Well, yeah, it's usually easier to get you guys to talk about this when there's actually a girl involved. Although, you are one of the more stubborn clients I've ever worked with in general."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," mumbled Logan as he set down the box he was moving. "Why don't we just start with the workout and you can fill me in later." He was feeling his nerve recede quickly.

"We could do that or we could just go about our day and you could just casually mention to me what you want to know. It doesn't have to be some big formal lecture, more like guy talk, you know? You do remember that?"

"I like to think I was discreet in my relationship details, but yeah, I know what you mean." Logan conceded. He'd participated in plenty of locker room and frat house chats in his day, but it was something he wasn't particularly proud of and had really tried to change about himself in the past couple of years. He knew that talking with Bling about what had gone right and wrong with Max last night was more of an organic study, something that could enhance the experience for both of them. Bling wasn't being voyeuristic; it was almost clinical. Still, it was an odd feeling.

"It's okay to want to be private about stuff, Logan. I'm just here to give you the information you need." He stood from the bench and motioned to the place where Logan usually started his warm-up. "Why don't we just get started and when you feel comfortable about talking we can." Logan agreed and moved to begin his workout.

* * *

"It don't matter if you got crowned Queen of the World, Boo. We got a policy, aight? When you gonna stay out all night, you gotta let Original Cindy know about it so she don't spend _her_ whole night losin' beauty sleep worrying 'bout yo' ass." She glared fiercely at Max as she slammed her locker door closed. "I know 'bout the big bad wolves that come looking for you, and I don't like thinkin' they got you when I don't know where you are all hours of the night."

"I told you I was going to Logan's. You could have called over there or paged me. I would have answered," tried Max.

"Boo, I blew up yo' pager like six times. Whatever was goin' on over there obviously left no time for communication with the outside world. So spill it." Cindy threw this back at her.

Max grabbed a pair of fingerless gloves from her own locker and shut it tightly, desperately trying to come up with a way to throw OC off the trail. As she looked up, Normal was calling out a hot run. "I gotta take this," she mumbled as she brushed past her friend and arrived at the desk just in time to see Herbal grab the padded envelope out of Normal's hand.

"Oh no you don't, girl. We gonna sit down somewhere and have a good long chat about this one." She grabbed a handful of packages and envelopes from Normal's desk on the Sector 5 and 6 piles and pulled Max out toward the door, thrusting one of the boxes in her hand. "Here, take this. We at least gotta get some work done on the way."

They rode silently to the first drop off, Max lost in thought over what to tell her friend about the night before and Original Cindy trying to figure out how to get Max to confess to her what had kept her from calling last night but had also painted that tiny satisfied smile on her face. A few minutes later, they dropped off the second package and Original Cindy directed their bikes to an old playground. The toys were broken and most likely hazardous for children, but one park bench seemed to have weathered the storm mostly intact. Cindy motioned to it and Max plopped down on the seat after leaning her bike up against the side.

"So, you gonna tell what is up with you or is Original Cindy gonna have to force it out of you somehow?" She stared across at her friend, watching intently as Max fiddled with the strap on her bag, fasteneing and unfastening the clasp.

"So Logan invited me over for dinner last night. You know that," she started quietly.

"Mm hmm," OC nodded. "I let you borrow a very fine red sweater for the occasion and did your hair and makeup if you recall."

"Right," Max continued slowly. "But earlier in the day I'd been there sometime in the afternoon, just to check on him. Hadn't seen him in a couple of days, he hadn't had any jobs for me this week and I'd been out with you guys every night. I didn't want him to think I'd forgotten about him or anything."

"No chance of that, Baby Girl, but go on." Max was clearly googley-eyed over this boy.

"Right, so he's sitting there in his living room with all this stuff everywhere and music playing that didn't belong in an elevator for once. And he's wearing this crazy outfit, a hat and this tight Yale sweater, a scarf, baseball shoes. It was just weird, but anyway, he didn't hear me come in and he was throwing stuff in boxes, really frantic. Finally, he turns around and I'm just sitting there watching. I guess I should have said something or tried to get his attention, but at first, it was kind of funny. Then I realized that he was upset. He didn't let on like anything was wrong, just like he was embarrassed that I'd seen him in that crazy outfit, but I knew it was more than that.

"He was going through boxes of stuff from his past," Max explained. "I guess it was harder on him than he thought it would be, remembering how it was before." Her voice caught when she said this as she felt hot tears welling up in her eyes. Even the thought of Logan's emotional tumult was almost more than she could bear. She straight up loved this man. She had said the words last night and had meant them, but only now was she beginning to realize how deeply that affection ran.

Original Cindy watched the realization of this come across Max's face. She gently encouraged Max to continue. "But he invited you for dinner, so you went back later last night."

Max nodded. "He made dinner and seemed in a better mood. Bling was on his way out, and we all talked for a bit, laughed too. We sat down for dinner, and I asked him if I could turn the music back on. He said sure so I did, but this song came on," Max paused again, trying to keep her composure, "And it was about us. There isn't any other way to describe it. I was almost crying, and Logan looked like he had earlier in the day." She breathed deeply. "He left the table and went into the living room in front of that damned window." Slowly, carefully, she explained the rest as Original Cindy listened, her eyes growing wide at each passing revelation. Max rounded out the story by recapping breakfast and her exit a few hours earlier before slumping back onto the bench not really believing the story she had just told.

"Day-um, Boo. So you tellin' me that you and Hot Boy were gettin' in on last night and that's how come you didn't call?"

Max blushed. OC really did have a way with words. "Well, yeah."

Cindy leaned forward, all the way on the edge of the seat, "So you gonna give OC some details?"

"Uh, not quite," Max defended. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Yeah, whatever, but I mean he can still…"

Max frowned. "That's really private. He'd die if he knew we were talkin' about this. But yeah, it was good," she smiled at the remembrance of his touch and her reaction to it.

"Like the ole fashioned hetero way?"

"Cindy!" Max scolded. "We weren't too worried about all that, you know. It was the first time for anything, and we were just exploring, getting to know one another," she finished with a twinkle in her eye and a playful grin tugging the corners of her mouth.

"You tellin' me Hot Boy explored the southern regions?" Cindy was aghast.

"No lesbian coulda done it any better," joked Max.

"Shit, Girl. What'd he want in return?" There had to be a catch. There always was with men.

"That's just it. Nothing. I wanted to try for him, too, but he said he wanted to wait, that it would be all about me first." Max was a little ashamed to admit she'd been a bit of a selfish lover.

"Well, you best up and marry that man, Max. As far as I can tell he's the only one of his kind." She looked over at Max and smirked wickedly. "He got a sister?"

Max swatted her friend's shoulder as she stood from her place and grabbed her bike. "I gotta bounce. I wanna get a couple more runs in before lunch so Normal doesn't have a cow if I'm gone a little longer than regulation."

"Aight. You comin' home tonight?"

"I'll call you and let you know as soon as I know, deal?"

"Whatever. See ya when I see ya." She grabbed her bike and started off in the other direction as a thought hit her. She yelled to Max who was already on the opposite side of the park. "Hey! So you gonna finally admit you two are 'like that' or what?"

Max tried to hold back her grin but was ultimately unsuccessful. She shrugged. "I guess so." Then Max turned and rode away. Cindy was left shaking her head for a second before heading off on her own route.

* * *

"So there are actually a couple of ways it happens," Bling started as Logan worked his upper body with weight sets. "Basically, there are two types, reflex which happens by touch and psychogenic which happens by other means of arousal. They're different, and different nerves and pathways allow them to happen." Logan stared straight ahead as he listened, giving Bling an almost imperceptible nod to continue.

"The reflex one is generated in the lower segments, S2-4. So injuries in that area are more likely to compromise it. But, in higher injuries, even though there is more paralysis, the sacral neuron circuits can be undamaged and that reflex potential can be preserved." Bling glanced down to see how the patient was faring with all this so far. Logan kept his breathing even as he concentrated on counting reps. He was listening, but he couldn't really give any indication of it for fear that he would absolutely lose all composure.

Confident that Logan was still with him, Bling continued. "Psychogenic or mental stimulation is controlled at the higher levels, from T-10 to L-4 or somewhere around there. If your injury is above that, you can't really have the mentally stimulated arousal and if the injury is from S2-4, you lose the physical stimulation. If your injury is somewhere in between, you may be able to have a little of both.

"Your injury is T8," he started to bring it all back to what this meant for Logan. "That means just thinking about her probably won't get you hard anymore on your own. But, you should see some response to touch, in areas you can't feel, but more importantly in areas of heightened sensation. I'm guessing you're pretty sensitive right around the T7, 8 and 9 dermatomes. Sensation changes there, like your neurons don't quite know what to do. That will help your own feeling of arousal and even climax.

"The good news is there are lots of ways to augment what your body still can do. There are several different kinds of medication that a lot of guys find helpful in achieving and maintaining erection. Some of them can even help with ejaculation."

"Jesus," Logan whispered. Bling glanced down. The younger man did look a little pale.

"Maybe we should take a break," decided Bling. He threw Logan a water bottle. "Here. Drink this."

Logan took a long pull on the bottle and closed the top. "I don't think I want to know any more about this right now."

Bling considered this request and mentally denied it, knowing it could be a while before he got Logan back into this conversation again. "We're almost done. Just bear with me a little longer." Logan nodded his submission and took another drink of water. "Did you notice if anything happened last night?"

Logan shook his head. "I wasn't really paying attention. I was more focused on her."

"And that's okay. It's fine to be worried about her pleasure, but sex is an activity for two, Logan. There's no reason why it can't be good for you, too. It's going to be different, for sure, but you love and trust her. Let her help you enjoy it."

"I just never imagined …" Logan started but trailed off.

"I know. How could you? Why would you? But here you are, and you're dealing with it. That's all you can do," Bling assured. "There are things that the two of you can do together that will be more geared to you, and you can always go with last night's game plan if you're in a bind. I don't know any girl who would object to that, but it doesn't have to be your only move." Bling pulled a couple of papers out of a folder in his bag. "Take a look at some of this stuff and talk it over with Max. If you want to try it on your own first, that's fine, but if think you want meds, we can hook you up with those, too."

"So if I do these things I should be able to be with her just like any other guy, and we should be able to find a way for me to have a good time with it, too?" Logan asked, not sure he totally believed that was possible.

"It's not going to be the same, Logan. There's no way it can be, but you're engaging in an intimate act of love and trust with the woman you love. That counts for something. You have to learn together what works for the two of you and what doesn't." Logan seemed okay with this. "Of course there are other obstacles when it comes to pregnancy, sperm motility and ejaculatory ability and all that, but those are bridges the two of you will have to cross when you get there."

"She's 19, Bling. I don't think having my baby is high on her to do list."

"Well, it's sex all the same. Just because it's unlikely that you could do it doesn't mean that it's impossible. The two of you should still use some sort of precautions if you don't want to chance it." Bling advised.

"Yeah, I guess that's a good point," agreed Logan, but he still had issues. "How do I talk to her about all this? I can see it now: Hey Max, good news! Now that we've decided to make out and have sex I have a 24 page handout on how we can possibly have a good time doing it."

"Don't do that, Logan. Don't sell her so short," chastised Bling. "I can guarantee you she's already read most of this and is just waiting for you to give her the okay to help you. I'm pretty sure that's what she's been doing all along. So just let her already." Logan nodded.

Bling was infinitely more perceptive than Logan was about these things, and he hadn't been wrong about any of it yet. Max loved him. He still could barely believe it could be true, but apparently it was. He knew he loved her almost the moment he busted her breaking in the penthouse almost a year ago. He honestly did want to know everything about her, and he realized doing that meant he would have to open up to her as well.


	5. You Can Tell Everybody This Is Your Song

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews as always. Fluff alert ahead.

* * *

_Chapter 5 – You Can Tell Everybody This Is Your Song_

Logan couldn't remember if he'd invited her for lunch, but he had a feeling that she would come. Bling did, too, and he helped Logan quickly sort through the rest of the boxes and transported them to their assigned places well before noon. Logan spent the rest of the morning checking the Informant Net and answering messages from possible sources. Amazingly, there wasn't anything of any substance to be found in them. Logan found himself thinking that if this kept up, he and Max could probably manage a weekend away at the cabin. He'd see how things went over the next few days before he suggested it, but they had already talked about hiking in the Cascades a few days earlier. But that was when he was still on his feet. He stopped himself; there was no reason they couldn't try to get out of town and spend some time together now. Still, he didn't want to get ahead of himself. He'd just wait and see. In the back of his mind, he could recall awkward meetings with women after having slept with them. _But,_ he told himself grimly, _the awkward part was usually when you couldn't remember their names when you saw them a few days later. _This, with Max, wouldn't be like with those girls. He was an adult now, and this was different.

Following his graduation from Yale, Logan promptly took a job back in Seattle, working for about a month before the Pulse hit. For this brief time, he remained a part of Jonas' world. After the Pulse and the chaos that ensued, he realized he could become Logan Cale of the Seattle Cales or he could be Logan Cale, guy trying to make the world a better place. He chose the latter and with that gave up many of the playboy ways of his youth. He distanced himself from his uncle and a good bit of what "being a Cale" meant. Sure, he still owned the penthouse of Fogle Towers, took his share of the stock dividends, and lived off the trust his parents had established for him, but that felt different. Those were things his parents had set up for his well-being. Those things were separate from Uncle Jonas and the hover drone-controlling chip manufactured by Cale Industries. As a part of his newfound freedom, he began paying attention to the things his mother had so desperately attempted to instill in him as a young child, a love of classical music, an appreciation of fine art, and a heart for people, especially those less fortunate than he was. And since that encompassed almost everyone, he realized he had quite the task in front of him.

Of course, it took time to become Eyes Only. He had to build the Informant Net, amass contacts and find clever ways to liquidate assets needed for sources. In the meantime, he also had to uphold some semblance of a normal, above-board life. His work for the Pacific Free Press killed two birds with one stone. Not only was he able to produce a constant stream of high profile articles with his name on them, but he was also privy to information and sources who were all too willing to help Eyes Only enlighten the general public. He wasn't exactly sure where his marriage to Val fit in, and he wasn't about to try to figure that out now. Obviously, there had been ups and downs throughout it all, but he always maintained the feeling that he would somehow end up on top. That was until he found himself lying facedown in the street.

All in all, the past year had been one of the most difficult of his life. If he really sat and thought about it, only the death of his mother had been a harder event to bear. He hated the out of control feeling that overtook him almost daily over the past ten months or so. He despised the fact that he had to ask for help and depend on others. He'd always been so self-sufficient. Well, as self-sufficient as a trust fund kid could be. He loathed his vulnerability and emotional instability. His thoughts drifted to the day with the gun. He tried to discern if he would have actually gone through with it had he not been interrupted, had Max not shown up later. He wanted to tell himself that it was a bluff, that there was no way he could have pulled the trigger. But he still wasn't sure. The only thing he felt sure about right now was wanting a future with Max. He guessed plans for the future were a good thing, but the memory of that day and his feelings of suicidal despair hadn't completely faded.

But he didn't have time to contemplate the past any further as he watched Bling remove the final box. Because when the therapist returned, he wasn't alone. Max had escaped to Sector 9 on her lunch break and had joined Bling on his elevator ascent to the penthouse. Logan heard them talking before he saw her, something about gasoline and sector passes. When she turned the corner, he was waiting. A smile spread across her face, extending to her dark eyes, brightening them visibly. He smiled back at her before realizing that he was still wearing his sweaty workout clothes.

"Hey," she whispered, walking toward him and then leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"Hey yourself," he sighed wanting more of her immediately. But he held up. "I'm a running a little behind and a bit of a mess. Help yourself to lunch while I get cleaned up." Then thinking about her schedule he added, "Do you have time for that?"

She didn't bother checking her watch or the clock. "I have time," she assured.

"Great. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

"Take your time, Logan." She smiled brightly again. "I'll be here."

"Okay, yeah." He nodded and started down the hall to the master bedroom.

Bling announced that he had some patients to see at Metro Medical and the adjacent rehab facility and asked Max to relay the message to Logan. She promised to do so, and the physical therapist made his exit. Max turned to rummage in the fridge for a few minutes, quickly finding the leftovers from the previous night's dinner. She smiled. If anyone had told her she'd find something better to do than eat an amazing salmon dinner, her feline DNA would have told that person he or she was crazy. She pulled the containers from the shelves and placed them on the counter. As she opened the first plastic box, she realized that the shower water had stopped. She waited seven minutes before she started down the hall after him.

At the door to the master bedroom, she knocked lightly before closing her eyes, inhaling a deep breath and pushing through into the room. He was just emerging from the bathroom clad only in boxers, the lenses of his glasses still steamy. He was rubbing his hair with the towel draped across his shoulders and blinked twice when he saw her standing in front of him.

"Max?" he managed when he was able to catch his breath.

She walked slowly toward him, seductively crossing one leg slightly in front of the other. When she got close enough for him to reach, he grabbed her waist and pulled her onto his lap. His hands slipped stealthily under her shirt and helped her slide out of it. She wrapped her legs around the back of the chair as he propelled them toward the bed. She fell back, pulling him toward her. He completed his move to the bed and pushed himself on top with his arms on either side of her. He stared down into her breathtaking beauty, her hair a dark silky fan unfurled beneath her. After a moment, he moved off to her side and lay there with her. Her hand found his and they turned toward one another. He leaned in to kiss her as his hands traveled to her pants. She was grabbing his boxers at the same time. Together, they undressed each other, pulling their bodies closer together. They rolled again so that he was on top of her. She wrapped her legs around him again, pressing her hips forward into him as their embrace deepened. He held tightly to her as her hands explored his chest, torso and flanks. As she reached the sensitive areas on his sides, she felt him shudder on top of her.

"Is that okay?" she asked, afraid she had hurt him.

"Yeah," he panted. "Do it again."

She caressed his flank as he continued to quiver, so relieved that she could pleasure him, before letting her hands travel farther down than he could sense. She reached his hips and began moving inward.

"Bling said there are things we can try," he started, almost apologizing for what he couldn't feel or do.

She locked her eyes in with his. "Logan, we don't need to try anything. We're there. Do you want to go ahead?"

He blushed but nodded. "It might not last," he whispered. "I just don't know."

She placed his hand on hers and together they guided him where he needed to go. Max leaned forward into him, deepening their connection. "It's perfect, Logan. You're perfect." Again she pulled his eyes into hers. Her free hand traveled across his chest and flanks once more as they found a rhythm together. Their eyes broke contact momentarily as she lunged toward his neck and chest, kissing and sucking gently. He leaned down into her, kissing her neck fiercely. She pressed her body flush against his and held it for a moment before collapsing back on the bed. He lowered himself down beside her as they slowly disengaged.

"Did you?" he asked after a few quiet seconds.

"Almost," she confessed.

"I'm sorry, Max," he started. "There are a lot of other things we can do." He was trying hard to keep his voice even.

Max climbed on top of him so they were facing, their eyes in parallel. She began kissing him, starting on his forehead and down his face to his lips, traveling along his chin to his neck and across his shoulders. Next, she started on his chest and abdomen to the places she had established he still retained sensation. Finally, she placed her bare chest on his abdomen and rested her head on his chest. His fingers found their way into her hair and stroked softly. She had silenced him.

She spoke then, the vibrations of her words humming through his body. "It doesn't matter, Logan. We'll get there. Right now, I want this, you and me together. And it was better for you this time, wasn't it?"

He reached down and caressed the angle of her face. "Yeah, but I want you to be happy, Max."

She sat up and stared at him with a sideways gaze. "Why would you think I'd be anything but?" He started to speak but she stopped him with a finger to his lips. "I know this is important to you, and I know we'll figure it all out, but please, don't ever think that you don't satisfy me, that I'm not happy. I am. I promise." She paused before continuing, "And one of the things that makes me happy is knowing you're enjoying this, too. So can you let me help you do that? Would that be okay with you?"

He kept silent for a moment longer. "Yeah, Max. It is. That's what I want for us, too."

She moved from his chest into the crook of his arm and pulled the comforter around them, shivering as she did so. _I never get cold,_ she mused. _What is up with this?_ He pulled her into him and kissed her again. Warmth slowly ascended from her toes to the top of her head. She pushed the covers down a bit and settled back into him. She felt herself drifting into drowsiness, too. _I never get tired,_ she started, but she fell asleep in Logan's arms before she could even finish the thought.

When she woke, the sun had fallen in the sky as dusk encroached upon the horizon. She must have been asleep for hours. Logan Cale had firmly established himself as her Kryptonite. Glancing around the dimly lit room, she found herself alone and naked in the large, plush bed. She sat up abruptly letting the covers fall away from her as she did so.

"Shit," she exclaimed to the empty room. "Shit, shit, shit." She jumped out of bed and searched frantically for something to wear. A flannel plaid robe was lying across the armchair. She grabbed it and pulled it on before sliding down the hall on her bare feet. Normal was absolutely going to rip her a new one.

"Logan?" She called as she entered the main part of the house. He wasn't in the kitchen, dining or living rooms. She rounded the corner to find the screen to the computer room slightly cracked. "Logan?" she tried again as she opened the door. He was sitting in front of the monitor, his hands free phone situated firmly in his right ear. He looked up as she walked in and raised a finger to her as she started to speak again. Instead, she moved behind him and leaned down to embrace him, her head on his left shoulder.

"Okay, thanks Matt. I'm gonna have to get back to you on this." He paused for the police detective to respond. "Yeah, I'll let him know, and he'll want to look into it, I'm sure. Thanks again. Bye." He hit the disconnect button on the keypad and turned to Max.

"Well, hello Sleeping Beauty. Did you have a good nap?" he asked the girl to his side.

She straightened up and took a seat on the table beside him. "Why did you let me sleep so long? I have to get my signatures to Normal or I won't get paid for any of my runs, plus the fact that he'll probably fire me for skipping the entire afternoon."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward to kiss her. She slid off the table and onto his lap. Once they had separated, he answered her. "I called for a Jam Pony pickup."

Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him. "You did not!"

"Of course I did. Original Cindy got your clipboard almost two hours ago. That way she got paid for the run, plus a generous tip." His eyes twinkled. "She also took the message to Normal that you needed to take the afternoon off. Seeing as you delivered twice the number of packages this morning as Sketchy did all day, I doubt he'll even notice you weren't there."

"Have I told you that I love you?" she asked as she settled back against his chest, which was fast becoming her favorite place in the world. The Space Needle couldn't hold a candle to it.

"Um, not today, I don't think," he pointed out. "I could stand to hear it again, though."

"I love you, Logan. I think I always have."

"I love you, too, Max."

They sat like that in front of the computer screens streaming information about evil and corruption, not paying attention to any of it. Finally, Logan asked her if she wanted to go into the living room. He had made a quick dinner while she was sleeping, and knowing that she had only eaten breakfast in the past day and a half, he knew she had to be starving again.

"Let me get changed first, okay?" She jumped up and hurried down the hall to his room. She scanned the room quickly for some clothes. On the back dresser, she found a folded pile of his laundry. She slithered into pants and a sweatshirt and rushed back to him. When she arrived at her place on the couch, he had prepared a plate with various finger foods, some of them finally utilizing the salmon. A glass of white wine, this time Pinot Gris, was waiting for her, as well. He stayed in the chair across the coffee table from her and raised his glass. She picked the one in front of her and clinked it against his before she dug into the meal.

After they had eaten and cleaned up the living room and kitchen, Logan moved onto the couch with her. He picked up the stereo remote and turned on the music yet again. The mix he had chosen this time was softer, easier, with instrumentals mixed in among lyrical love songs. Max felt that now familiar warmth enveloping her again as she reclined in his arms. His hands rested on top of hers and she realized she could stay like this forever.

"We need a song," she thought aloud, reminiscing on Logan's earlier explanation.

He hugged her tighter before releasing one hand to smooth her hair. "You can't just pick one, Max. It has to have some sort of meaning."

She sighed, trying to think if anything could possibly meet that qualification for them. "How about the music from the car? Sibelius, right?"

He thought about it for a second before shaking his head. "Zack was there, and it wasn't the right time for us. Plus it's called _Valse Triste_. That means sad waltz. I don't think that can be our song. We need something happier."

"So I guess that rules out everything from last night." He could hear the smirk on her face.

He poked her arm playfully. "Whatever, Max. You were having your own pity party, so you have no room to talk."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me. It was a real high point for both of us, huh?"

Logan pulled her tight against him again. "Yeah," he admitted, acknowledging her sarcasm and adding a bit of his own. She turned so she could kiss him. He couldn't believe how amazing it felt to have her like this, in his arms whenever he wanted. She snuggled her head into his chest and sighed, her warm breath tickling his torso. From the stereo, a new melody wafted into the room. Max felt her feet moving along in time to the beat.

"You like this one?" Logan asked as she began humming along with the repeating intro.

She nodded. "It sounds tropical. Makes me think of an island getaway or something." The lyrics joined the tune as she pulled away from him slightly, starting to sit up. She found herself smiling as the singer's words stirred something in her. "_I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted,_"the man crooned as she stood and extended her hand to him. He looked at her, perplexed.

"Dance with me."

_Before the cool done run out I'll be giving it my bestest._

"I can't."

_And nothing's gonna stop me but divine intervention._

"Sure you can. Mind over matter."

_I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some._

"See my problem is I can't walk."

_But I won't hesitate no more, no more._

"I'm not asking you to walk, just dance."

_It cannot wait, I'm yours._

He watched her a second longer, her eyes clear and determined, hand unwaveringly extended. He nodded and practically hopped back into the chair. In an instant, she was on top of him as they immediately found their bodies moving, synchronized with the song whose words and infectious beat chased any speck of remaining gloom from the penthouse.

Max folded her body into his, unsure of where one ended and the other began. He was everywhere and she welcomed him greedily, his kiss, his touch, his warmth, his affection. As he closed her eyes, she lost spatial orientation and found herself unable to ascertain whether they were still moving or just suspended somehow in this particular moment in time. Eventually, the song ended and they disengaged, finding themselves sitting in a breathless silence.

The air lingering in the room buzzed excitedly with the anticipation of the future they seemed destined and were now determined to share. Her fingers twisted in his spiky hair as she gazed into his eyes. That was all of him everyone else ever saw. She was willing to share that now, knowing the rest belonged to her. Finally.

He kept his eyes engaged with hers, her devotion becoming more obvious to him with each passing second. How could he not have seen it before now? His own self-involvement shamed him, but she had stuck with him, so he guessed it didn't matter any more. He leaned in and kissed her again as his strong fingers slowly rubbed their way up her arm, their hands meeting somewhere in the midst of everything.

"I think we found it," she announced as her smile enlightened her entire face.

"Yep," he agreed. "All of it."

* * *

Song lyrics in this chapter are from I'm Yours by Jason Mraz.


	6. Sleight of Hand and Twist of Fate

A/N: So this is the end, but as you'll see, it sets forth the possibility for a whole new adventure. Hopefully I'll be able to develop it into a nice little story with a plot. Of course, that will take a bit more time than this, but I'm kind of looking forward to it for as long as my inspiration is flowing. Thanks to all the readers and especially the reviewers. Thanks again for the warm welcome to the DA universe.

* * *

_Epilogue – Sleight of Hand and Twist of Fate_

She woke in his arms, turned toward the window, currently featuring little rivers of rain cascading down its surface. The clock was on his side of the bed, but she was warm, comfortable, and content. Plus, it was Saturday. She tried to settle back in beside him without moving or making a sound. He'd gotten decent sleep in the past two nights, but she knew there were plenty where he never made it to bed, working on one thing or another. His chest moved rhythmically against her back, giving away his continued slumber. She wanted to be able to stay here with him, wrapped up like this, but suddenly the need to move overtook her. As she tried to extricate herself nimbly from his embrace, arms tightened around her. His breathing pattern changed as his body stirred against her.

"Hi," he whispered into her hair.

She pulled his hands tighter against her and placed hers on them. "Morning," she answered, more to the room than to him. She felt his arms turning her toward him. "Hey," she protested playfully, "I like being the little spoon."

"Oh, yeah? Well, it's gonna have to wait." He placed his hands on her hips, continuing down to her backside. Every muscle in her body tightened reflexively, but the tension slowly leaked away as his hands continued to survey her.

As much as she wanted this scene to continue indefinitely, she knew she had to tell him what she'd been keeping to herself for the past week. Realizing that it would probably change everything made it all the more difficult, but if she truly loved him, she was going to have to give him this choice. The way she had it figured, there were two options. He could understand why she had done things the way she had and forgive her or he could hate her. It would have to be his decision.

"Logan?" she started quietly. "Are you awake?"

He yawned above her and stretched slightly. "Yeah. What's up?"

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, almost sighing. "I have to tell you something." She turned so that her back was against his chest again. Then, she balled her knees into her own midsection and scooted to the edge of the bed, taking a seat there. She moved a bit toward his feet so she could see his face when she turned, even though she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Okay?" he conceded. She was sitting there, shoulders rounded in defeat. He couldn't imagine anything that could weigh so heavily on her at this moment. "What is it, Max? What's wrong?"

"I think I can help you walk," she murmured, knowing now that there was so much more than walking involved. It still didn't matter to her, she'd never been dishonest to him about that, but she was really beginning to realize how globally the injury had affected his life. She wanted him to know that she loved him, Logan, the man who wanted to know everything about her, who wanted to help her find her family and destroy those who had hurt her. The man who challenged her to chess matches and cooked her dinner, who gave her oil and parts for her baby. The man who took her into his arms and loved her in a way she had never been loved or satisfied before. It didn't matter to her one bit whether he was sitting or standing while he was doing all of this, but she knew that to him it did. And that's what love was, putting the needs and wants of the other person first, even if you don't necessarily think it's the right thing for them. She felt like she'd matured in that knowledge over the past three days. Now it would be up to him to judge whether her concession was too little too late.

"You what?" He rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to wipe away the confusion with the sleep.

"Seems like Dr. Vertes did get around to selling some of her secrets before she became so careful about whom she was associating with. At least she was communicating her research with other colleagues. Not only was there the one in Tokyo she mentioned, who was also Manticore, by the way, but there's another doctor based out of Osaka who's working on similar research and treatments."

"What are you talking about? How do you know this? Where did you find that information?" The questions mounted more quickly in his head than he could verbalize them.

"When I went back for your file, there was another folder on Vertes' desk, but I didn't really have a chance to look at it because I dropped yours and all the papers fell out. I saw the part about, well, I was picking it up off the floor and I had to get back to you. And then with everything else going on," she paused, "With Jace and all," she lied.

"I forgot about it, but after things calmed down a little last week, I was able to think a little more clearly. I remembered about the file and the name, Makiko Takahashi. I did some research through _my_ contacts, and your internet, and I found out some things. But after that day," _And the gun_, she omitted, "I wasn't sure if I could make it happen, and if something went wrong again, well, I didn't know how you would take it." Actually, she had a pretty good idea of how it might play out, how it almost had.

"And this doctor, what was her name?"

"Takahashi."

"Does Dr. Takahashi have a Manticore past as well?" Logan inquired, trying to find out not only why Max had hidden this from him but also why she was bringing it up now.

Max shook her head. "No. As far as I can tell, she's a good bit younger than Vertes. Her research interests seem to be more altruistic than anything that ever came out of Manticore, too. One of her professors had worked with Vertes and the Tokyo colleague. They've all shared a good bit of clinical information on immunosuppression in the setting of stem cell transplantation, specifically for neuron regeneration. Vertes wasn't lying; their methods have worked before. I found a couple of case reports. It all looked legit, write-ups in peer-reviewed journals and all that, so a few days ago, I called her. I didn't want to invade your privacy, but I told her a little bit about you. She's anxious to meet with us.

"You'll need more stem cells. Mine are probably all gone now, she said, and since your body has seen my cells before, the immune response will be a lot faster to develop if we use my blood again. I didn't get into the whole Manticore super stem cell thing with her, but she said she had a couple options for other donors, but then, so do we, right?"

Logan shook his head and blinked a couple of times, trying to make what she was saying register in his head. "Max, what the," he attempted, but she was still talking.

"I mean, we have an idea of where Jace is. And if we can somehow get in contact with Zack, he knows about Tinga, Zane, Syl, Krit, Jondy, and Ben. He knows where they all are. One of them, or all of them, I can ask them for some blood and the doctor can find the one that will work best, right?" She was on her knees now, crawling back on the bed toward him. He'd managed to push himself into a sitting position. Her eyes shone as she rambled off her plan to him. "I told her you know Kyoto better than Osaka, and she said she can meet us there or even in Hawaii or LA. She'd rather not come to Seattle, but who can blame her for that. You've been talking about a vacation for as long as I've known you, so why not meet with her and take care of both things at the same time?"

He held his weight on one arm and grabbed her hand with the other. His breathing came in ragged, shallow rasps. "Max. Stop. Why are you telling me this now?" He almost stopped himself from speaking the next words, but he didn't. "Is it about yesterday?"

She looked confused, and then mortified as she realized what he was suggesting. She pulled her hand away from him as though his touch was burning her. She rubbed her wrist and backpedaled out of his reach as she looked at him, her head shaking as disgust settled over her face. "I can't believe you'd say that, Logan. I can't believe you'd even think it, much less say that to me."

Immediately, his defensive walls sprang back into place. "Well, I mean, before it was all theoretical, you being okay with me 'just the way I am.' It never really interfered with what you wanted, but now…" He knew he was being irrational and myopic, but why the hell would she bring this up now?

"Fuck you, Logan. And in case that confuses you more, this still has nothing to do with fucking. Not on my end, anyway." She stood up and walked out of the room, grabbing a robe on her way out to cover her nakedness.

"Max! Wait." He reached for the chair but realized he was naked, too, plus he needed the bathroom first. The clock's numbers blinked, mocking him, his eight-hour schedule, and the knowledge of what would happen if he didn't follow it. "Fuck!" He yelled into the room and the whole situation, knowing she would hear his frustration anywhere in the apartment. A moment later, she slammed the lobby door, and the penthouse plunged into silence. "Fuck," he whispered now to no one. "Fuck."

He went into the bathroom and got ready to face the day, more out of necessity than anything else. He knew he'd have to give her some time to cool off and with good reason. Everything he'd said to her that morning had been so incredibly hurtful and wrong. He knew exactly why she hadn't mentioned it to him before. She hadn't really talked to him overtly about the gun, but he knew her policy on guns in general, and he realized she'd been sticking awfully close lately, even when he hadn't had jobs for her, even before they started making out. She didn't want to him to have to experience all that heartache again. But then why did she even bring it up? And then he realized it – he was such an asshole. She was willing to give him this chance, this crazy long shot chance that most likely wouldn't pan out, because she truly cared about him and what was important to him.

He finished his shower, dried and pulled on some clothes before heading out into the kitchen to make some coffee. As it brewed, he pulled a mug from the low shelf. He sat it on the counter before moving through the living room and into the office.

"Jesus, Max!" he exclaimed to the young woman sitting silently on the couch, facing the window. "You nearly scared me to death."

She turned back toward him. "Sorry. I was just waiting for you to come out."

The fact that she had come back of her own accord spoke volumes to him about the new level their relationship had reached. "I'm really sorry about back there, Max," he dropped his head, "Seems like I'm apologizing an awful lot lately for saying and doing the wrong thing, but I really am sorry."

She moved forward and placed her hand under his chin, lifting it slightly. "I know you are, Logan. And I know this is a really difficult and emotional subject for you." He took her fingers and kissed the tips of them. "And I know I should have told you as soon as I knew anything so you could look into it yourself, but I wanted to do something for you for a change. And I wanted to make sure you'd be okay with it, no matter how things turned out."

"I know that Max. I didn't mean what I said back there. I don't think that at all." He transferred to the couch to sit beside her. She scooted over to make room. "And I know you understand what the prospect of a cure means to me." He stared straight into her eyes, "And I know you can look past the chair," his voice started to break, "And that you'd be here either way." She nodded as he tried to continue. "I just want it back. I want to wake up, swing my legs over the bed, and go take a piss, standing up, in my bathroom. I want to be able to go anywhere I want without worrying about if the elevator is working or if there's a ramp. I want people to look at me again like I'm a person again, not just some pathetic being or even worse, not look at me at all.. I want to pick you up, carry you into that bedroom, and have sex with you, real sex the real way without any techniques or enhancements or anything other than you and me. I want to be able to give you a baby when the time comes and then be able to do all the regular dad stuff with that kid, you know?"

She nodded again. "I do know Logan. That's why I told you about Dr. Takahashi, because I finally realized that you need to do this. You need to explore all the options for you, not for me. This doesn't have anything to do with me. I would be happy with you even if nothing ever changed, but I know you have to try."

"I don't deserve you, Max. Not even close." He shook his head, amazed at how quickly he'd almost managed to screw up the best thing that had ever happened to him.

She leaned over and kissed him. "True, but I'm willing to put up with you. For now."

"Can I, I mean, do you think I could take a look at the files?" He asked as she released the embrace.

She rolled her eyes and hopped up from the couch. "Sure," she agreed, "After you fix me breakfast." She grinned back at him. "And while we're at it, we can throw on our two thousand dollar watches and start planning that vacation."

"We just might have to do that," he conceded as he moved into the chair and followed her into the kitchen. "Max," he stated solemnly as she opened the cupboards and refrigerator in search of breakfast ingredients. She stopped and turned back toward him. "This is gonna be okay."

She smiled at him. "Better than okay," she decided. She'd make sure that it was.

FIN


End file.
